The Day I met Peter Burke
by Aragarna
Summary: Peter's in danger! But he may find unexpected help from Lily. A Peter Burke story. I hope you'll like it. :-D


Note: _This is my first (and probably only) story. I'm not usually a writer, but that story was stuck in my head, and the only way to get it off was to write it. Please forgive any awkward phrasing, English is not my mother tongue. Hopefully it'll still look good, thanks to the much appreciated help from Winterstar-Donna._

**The Day I met Peter Burke.**

The cellar was small, and dark. The ground was made of fine dirt; the walls were bare, with obvious signs of humidity. The single source of light was a small window near the ceiling of a side wall. The window was at ground level from the outside, but out of reach from down here. There was nothing in the room. Nothing but me. I wasn't sure why I was here. I had been walking back home from work, taking a shortcut through the small paths between houses and backyards, when I had been grabbed unceremoniously and with no explanation by a big guy with a big gun. Big guy locked me in the cellar of the house at the street corner, two blocks from mine. And here I was, waiting. I didn't know what I should or could do. Wait, escape, fight, scream? My bag had been taken, so I didn't have my cellphone, or anything to eat, and my stomach was starting to recall that time was passing.

The door suddenly burst open and I jumped to my feet. A man was shoved down the flight of stairs. He fell heavily on the floor and let out moan of pain. Yet, in an instant, he was back on his feet, climbing the stairs. But the door was already closed, and locked. The man rattled the doorknob, but it was too late. He banged on the door with his right hand, swearing. When he stopped, his fist was against the door, his head lowered, and he leaned his forehead against the rough wood. He remained still and silent for a while.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, and somewhat worried.

"Neal, please don't do anything stupid", he whispered.

With a sigh, he slowly turned around, head down, looking at the stairs. This is when I noticed the blood on his left hand. Pouring slowly from under his sleeve, it was dripping on the floor. He sat on the stairs, and with care, he placed his left arm on his lap. He looked at his watch.

"Guys? Help would be appreciated now. I'm in the basement of the second house," he called. "Damn it, there is probably no signal down here…"

He was wearing a dark suit and a finely stripped white shirt. Classy, if rather classic but at the moment, kind of disheveled. He loosened his tie and ran his hand through his hair.

He still had not noticed me.

"Sir? Are you hurt?"

He jumped, back on his feet, and looked at me. His dark eyes pierced me through. Standing up, he was pretty tall, with broad shoulders. The man was definitely impressive.

"Who are you?" he asked, suspicious.

"I... My name is Lily."

"What are you doing here?"

"I... I don't know. Not sure. I think I disturbed something, someone."

"Who are you working with?"

"What? No! I'm not…" I wasn't what?

"Palmer?"

I opened my mouth but I didn't know what to say. I still hadn't figured what the whole thing was about. My heart was racing. I felt just like I was at one of those oral exams from my former student life, and I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I could feel tears sting my eyes. I didn't want to let my fear show, but I wasn't sure I was succeeding.

The man looked intently at me as if trying to find the answers inside me. Not able to sustain his gaze, I looked down. Finally, he seemed to relax a little.

"So you're captive too?"

I nodded. "I guess." My voice didn't sound as strong as I wished.

He paused, thinking, and looked away."Damn, we had the whole neighborhood surrounded! This was not supposed to happen!"

He looked back at me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It seems you've been caught in our operation. We were closing down on..." He hesitated, looking for the right words, or probably what he could say safely, just in case. "We were about to stop a drug trafficking ring. We're in the seller's house. He probably thought you could be a inconvenient witness. Compromise his deal. Maybe he thought you were with us..."

"You? Who are you?"

"The FBI." The man's look softened and a warm smile lightened his face. "Sorry", he said. "I'm Special Agent Peter Burke. Nice to meet you, Lily."

"Nice to meet you, Agent Burke."

All of a sudden, I felt reassured. I had to admit I was very glad not to be alone anymore. There was something deeply comforting in Agent Burke. An FBI agent. Things would end well. I smiled at the agent, and sat back in my corner.

He came further and sat not far from me. Like earlier, he took particular care of his left arm. His back against the wall, he laid his left leg straight in front of him, and kept the other bent, putting his right arm on his knee. His left sleeve was socked with blood and there was a large cut across his arm, right below the shoulder.

He rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes. For a minute or two, he didn't move, simply took deep breathes.

He then steadied himself and re-opened his eyes. When he looked at me, his gaze was reassuring. He smiled briefly, clearly not sure what to do about me. Then, serious again, he searched around, surveying his surroundings. Not that there was much to examine.

"We need to get out of here", he said as he stood up.

"Door is locked with a deadbolt from the outside, and window is too high." I said.

He went to the door and examined it carefully. It was a massive wooden door, which had clearly been reinforced.

"Too bad..." he said with a sad smile. "What's the point to be taught by a conman how to pick a lock if they use deadbolt?" He looked at the window. "Window doesn't seem as solid as the door. Maybe with the two of us we can reach it."

I could not help but look at the red drops pouring down his sleeve to the floor. "Agent Burke," I mumbled, "Are you sure you're in shape for acrobatics?"

He winced, an apologetic look on his face. "Probably not."

"What happened?"

"Gunshot. I... I should have been more careful. They fired, and I fell, and they grabbed me before I could get to safety. I should've... Well, anyway... Here I am."

There was some sort of reluctance in his voice. But it was not the reluctance to admit a mistake. No, it felt more like shyness. Agent Burke was not the kind that liked to talk about himself.

Silent settled again. Agent Burke seemed to have forgotten me, and I did not want to disturb his train of thought. His face was closed, his jaws tight, and his right hand on his hip. He finally came back to sit next to me. He let go a soft groan. He was obviously in more pain than he let on.

"Agent Burke" I started, but my voice trailed off. He looked back at me, with an encouraging smile.

"Peter," he corrected.

I nodded. "Peter, maybe we should try and stop the bleeding. Looks like you're seriously losing blood."

Peter reluctantly glanced at his arm. "I guess you're right" he said.

I continued, trying my best to sound encouraging. "We can try to make a constriction point on the wound. Should reduce to bleeding".

I search my pockets, looking for something that could be of any use, trying to remember that old first-aid class I had taken a few years ago. I had never imagined I would use what I learned on a wounded FBI agent.

"Do you have anything we could use as a strap or something?" I asked, looking at Peter, and smiled. "Oh great, your tie!"

Looking down at his tie, Peter made an odd face. "But this is my lucky tie!"

"Oh…" I looked closer at the tie. It was a horrible dark green, with undefined patterns and shades. "Hm… Do you feel lucky right now?"

He laughed. "Well, no, not really."

"So let's try to make this magic tie work. It might very well save your life."

"Right."

Peter undid his tie, as I knelt down next to him.

"You should take your jacket off. Let me help you. Try not to move your left arm, give me your right arm."

Starting with the right arm, I took his jacket off, careful not to touch the wound. His sleeve was red with blood. I folded the jacket and put it aside. As I started to unbutton his shirt, I felt his body tensed and he pushed me away. He looked uneasy at me.

"It's okay, Peter. I just need to get a clear look at the wound but your shirt is a bloody mess."

"Right. I'm sorry." He muttered "It's just…I'm not used to… my wife is the only person…"

"It's okay, just relax." I said softly. Peter was definitely a private man. He gave me an apologetic smile, and let me unbutton his shirt.

I looked at the wound. It was large and deep, and there was blood. _A lot_ of blood. I felt a knot in my stomach and I gritted my teeth.

"That bad, huh?" Peter asked. It was my turn to give an apologetic look. Shaking myself, I took the tie from his hand.

"Okay, Peter. Here comes the hard part. I'm gonna wrap your arm with the tie, and press on the wound. It's gonna hurt."

I folded the tie a couple of time, and pressed it against the wound. Peter looked away. His right fist was clenched and his jaw tight. I could see the jaw muscle roll under his skin as he tried to hold the cry of pain. He did not make a sound, but I saw a tear at the corner of his eye. I wrapped his arm with the tie and made a solid knot. I repositioned his shirt, buttoned it, and put him his jacket back on.

"It's over. You're good as new, agent Burke!" The tear had not fallen. He brushed it away and smiled.

"Thank you, doc."

Back on his feet, he walked to the window and looked up at it, evaluating the height. He was still determined to get out. He turned back to me. He was about to say something when we heard the door being unlocked. Peter ran to the door, only to find himself facing the barrel of a gun. The same man who had pushed him down here earlier was pointing his gun at Peter's face.

* * *

Peter stepped back, keeping a safe distance between him and the man.

"Hoping you could run, Burke?" the man said, a terrifying grin across his face.

Peter gave him a dark look. He was incredibly calm. His voice was steady and imperious. "Don't do anything stupid, Kruger. Give yourself up, and cooperate, we can make you a deal."

Kruger laughed. A horrible laugh that made me shiver. "You think I'm that stupid, Burke? Nah, sorry, man. Palmer wants you dead, and I volunteered to put the bullet in your head."

If looks could kill, Kruger would have been dead. Peter clenched his jaw. Had it not been for the gun dangerously pointed to his face, there was no doubt Peter would have crushed the man's nose. The shy Peter Burke was gone.

If Peter didn't seem to be afraid, I cannot say I felt as brave. It was like I was suddenly frozen. My brain was frozen, my whole body was frozen. I could not think, I could not move. It was the second time in one day that I found myself so close to a real, loaded, and ready-to-fire gun and I was petrified. I must have made something though, a move, or a sound, because Kruger suddenly turned toward me, obviously surprised to see me there. For a split second, he hesitated. That was more than enough for Peter, who jumped on the guy. Peter slammed Kruger's forearm and the gun dropped. They struggled and fell together on the floor. Peter screamed but did not loosen his grip. Yet, weakened by his injured arm, Peter was losing ground. Kruger was gaining the upper hand. Peter jerked away but Kruger pounced on him. Seeing the gun at hand-length, Peter dived, grabbed the weapon and fired. Kruger fell flat on his back.

Using the gun to cover Kruger, Peter eyed him and when he made no move, Peter laid back. Unable to move, he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

I couldn't move. My heart was beating so hard and so fast that it seemed it wanted to escape my ribcage. Peter was now sitting up and staring at the body. He was talking, but I could barely hear his voice, my ears filled with the pounding of my heart.

"They just want to kill me off…" His voice was hollow. "I always hope that they would be smart enough, that they would get it, but no! I'm just the enemy..." He run his hand through his hair, rubbed his face. "I shouldn't have kept that case. I should have listened. I knew it would be dangerous, I knew it! That's precisely why I'm White Collar, not Organized Crime. I should have backed off, handed the case to Ruiz…" His voice was no more than a murmur.

I couldn't take my eyes from Kruger's body. A dark stain appeared on his chest. I felt sick. I didn't want to look, but it was like my eyes were glued to this vision. A dead body, right in front of me.

"Lily?" I blinked. Peter stood next to me. I hadn't seen him get up. He seemed exhausted, his skin dangerously pale. He was looking at me with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked hesitantly.

My breathing was jerky. I felt like I had been running a marathon. I slowly shook my head, and I glanced at Kruger's body again. My knees started to shake. The world seemed blurry and… rocking?

"Oh no, don't…" Peter's voice seemed distant, as if talking to me through a thick fog. "No, please, don't panic on me now…"

I felt his hand on my shoulder. He gently forced me to sit. He knelt in front of me, between me and Kruger's body." Don't look" he said. Holding my chin, he made me look at him. "Relax. It's okay. It's over."

"They're going to kill us!" My voice broke and two big tears I couldn't retain any longer ran down my cheeks.

"Oh no… please Lily, don't cry… I'm not… good at this." He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently, trying to give me some comfort. His hand was warm and strong. I could feel the warmth spread in my own body. I held him close to shut out the thoughts, the sight of the dead man, and after an instant of hesitation, he put his arm around me.

"There, it's okay, we're fine, we're going to get out of here…" I was still hearing Peter's voice through a fog, but its sound and the reassuring hold of his arm around me calmed me down. "Good, take deep breaths, slow down". Things were clearer now. Images and sounds seemed normal again. My heart was at a more reasonable rate.

"Lily?" Peter asked in a murmur. I wiped away the tears on my cheeks with my sleeve, and I looked up at Peter. "We should go," he said softly. I nodded. "You're good?" he asked again. I cleared my throat. "Yes, I think so. Thank you, Peter."

"Let's get out of this place. If they heard the gun shot they'll assume Kruger shot me. It might buy us some time but not much before they start worrying why he isn't coming back."

Peter got up carefully to his feet, and offered me his hand, to help me up. He grabbed Kruger's gun, checked it and went to the door.

"Stay behind me" he commanded.

He put his ear on the door. Not hearing anything suspicious, he slowly opened the door, careful not to make any sound. He silently waved for me to stay close. We exited the room. In front of us, the stairs led up to the main parts of the house. At the top of the stairs, there was another door. We could hear noises and voices, though we could not make the words out. We could see shadows passing under the door. There was no way we could escape without being noticed. Peter silently gestured me to go back in the cellar.

As he reached the door, Peter noticed the key in the hole. He took it, and closing the door, he locked it from the inside.

"This should give us a bit more time." Turning to the window, he said "I guess it's time for acrobatics."

He examined the gun and handed it to me. "Put this in your pocket. I'll put you up on my shoulders, you should easily reach the window. Use the gun to break the glass. Don't worry; I've put the safety back on. It won't fire." He gave me an encouraging smile. "You ready?"

He was still very pale, but he looked better than just a moment earlier. His dark eyes were sparkling again. I put the gun in my pocket. Peter knelt down next to the wall, right under the window.

"Climb on my shoulders." he said, "Secure yourself by holding onto the wall. Once you've grabbed the ledge, use the gun to break the window."

I did as I was told, careful to favor his good shoulder. I found a steady position and put my hands on the wall. "I'm good." Peter took a deep breath and stood up. He flinched, but did not flag. I grabbed the ledge of the window. He secured my right foot with his arm. I took the gun from my pocket. "Hold it by the barrel, and hit as hard as you can." He instructed. "Be careful of the pieces of glass."

I closed my eyes and hit the window as hard as I could. It broke all at once. I cleared the last pieces from the frame. "Exit is clear." I announced, looking down at Peter below.

"Good. Can you make it out?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so."

"Be careful that nobody sees you."

I nodded, and climbed through the window. On my hands and feet, I took a look around. I was in the house backyard. It was empty and the high weeds could testify that it had not been looked after in a long time. Luckily, there was no window on this side of the house, just a solid door. I crawled back and pass my head through the window. "Still there, Peter?"

He looked up at me, laughing. "Not like I could go anywhere anyway!"

Serious again, Peter looked at me. "Go, try to find some help, I'll wait for you here."

I frowned. "Peter. I'm not going anywhere without you!" I bent lower. "Give me your hand!"

Either he knew he could not convinced me to go, or he did not feel he had enough strength left to argue, I was not sure. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better.

"I'm gonna jump and grab the ledge. I guess it would help if you could help me climb. Just try not to pull too hard on my arm…"

"Okay, Peter, I'm ready." I hoped my voice sounded assured enough, though I was not at all. He was probably about 180 pounds, and I did not see how I could ever be strong enough to pull him up.

Peter took a deep breath, and with one step he jumped, grabbed the ledge with both hands, and pulled himself up. He moaned at the effort asked of his injured arm. I grabbed him under the shoulders, pulling with him. His left hand slipped, and there was a fleeting moment where we stayed still, in precarious equilibrium, not sure if we would both go down. Peter was biting his lip to draw blood, to contain his pain. He finally pushed himself upward, his feet finding support against the wall. It was laborious, awkward, but we made it out. Peter crawled two steps from the window and collapsed on his back, arms apart, breathing heavily. I stayed sitting on the ground, catching my breath too.

Peter sat up. He seemed beyond exhausted. Sweat was visible on his hairline, he was white as snow, and his lower lip was bleeding. But a bright, if tired, smile illuminated his face. He locked his eyes with mine. His look was warm and comforting.

"We made it!" I said. He nodded.

"Thank you." Peter whispered.

"Well, thank you too, really."

Peter blinked a couple of time. "I'm not sure I can make it much farther…" He looked at his watch. It was covered in blood, which Peter wiped away. "Good, it's transmitting now…"

Taking his watch to his mouth he said "Neal, Jones, anyone? Back up would be appreciated now." Seeing my puzzled look, Peter explained: "There is a mike in the watch, and a GPS. Help's on its way. They'll find us."

"Who is Neal Jones?" I asked.

Peter chuckled. "Neal and Jones are two different people. _Very_ different. Jones is one of my agents. But Neal is… Neal is a long story." He paused. "He's my partner. And my friend."

He closed his eyes and was about to lie down.

"Whoa, Peter, don't… Please, hold on, just a little more. We're still in their backyard. We'd better put a bit more distance between them and us, right?" I came near him and held him up. He sighed and gave me a slightly exasperated look.

"Yeah, okay, you're right…" He looked around. There was a door in the far wall of the backyard. I helped Peter get up. He held my shoulder to steady himself. The door was locked by an old and rusty chain. Peter turned around to face me. "You still have the gun?" I handed it to him. He grabbed it by the barrel and kneeled down next to the chained door. He expertly hit the chain with the butt end of the weapon several times. The chain finally broke, freeing the door. I opened the door and was about to look outside, when Peter pulled me gently back.

"Let me go first," he said, "Stay behind me". He made a careful step outside, looking right, then left.

"Clear, let's go!"

We were in a small alley winding between backyards and gardens.

Peter chose to go left. We had made it about 30 meters when Peter stumbled. His steps were becoming unsteady. I put my arm around his waist, giving him support, and he put his arm around my shoulder. We made it another 50 meters, but it was clear that Peter would not make it much farther.

I looked behind me. We could not see the house, which hopefully meant they could not see us. I pointed to a tree at the edge of the garden. "There Peter, let's sit down." Peter crashed down to the ground. He put the gun next to him. I helped him find a comfortable position against the trunk of the tree. I passed my arm around his shoulder and Peter let his head rest against mine.

"You're good?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you." His voice was a murmur.

He was starting to doze off.

"Peter!" I called softly. "Peter, please, stay with me."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's ok Peter, just try to stay awake. They'll be here soon, right?"

"Yes, don't worry," he said He was closing his eyes again.

"Peter, just keep talking, so that I know you're still with me. Why don't you tell me the long story about your friend Neal?"

Keeping his eyes closed, Peter smiled. "Okay. Well, Neal is the smartest guy I've ever met. Whatever he does, he masters it. Too bad he chose the other side..."

"The other side?"

"Yeah, Neal is… was, a thief. And a forger, and a million of other things involving illegal activities."

"And he's your friend?" I asked, puzzled.

Peter smiled. "Yes."

"I caught him. Eh, because sometimes I can be smarter than him! Long story short, he asked to work with me, as a criminal consultant instead of going back to prison for four years. I must say, I wasn't sure, but I took the chance. And we do great together. Kid's good. We still have our issues, from time to time, because though I know he tries his best to behave, he enjoys not going by the rules," Peter paused. "I don't know, sometimes it's my fault too. I may have rushed my judgment a couple of times. But I know I shouldn't turn against him. That doesn't work. Each time, he pushes me away."

"How long have you been working together?"

"Two years."

"What will he do when his time is up?"

Peter sighed. "I don't know. I'm not sure. I wish we could keep working together. I wish he would stay with me. I'll miss him. Funny thing is, I feel he truly appreciates working with me. But the weird thing is that I feel he is doing it for me, more than doing it because it's the right thing to do. For some reason, Neal has a very high opinion of me. Not sure I always deserve it, but my approval seems very important to him. The way he looks up at me..."

"It must be pretty intimidating."

Peter laughed. "Yeah sometimes it is. Anyway, it keeps me on my toes. I want to make it right for Neal. He trusts me, and I want to live up to his expectations. He makes me better in a way, you know."

"Right, Iike when he taught you to pick a lock." I teased, remembering a comment he had made earlier. Peter grinned. "That was actually Mozzie. Neal's friend, and occasional devil on his shoulder. That one is a piece of work! He is a weird little guy, completely paranoid. Which is probably what makes him so good. He doesn't have Neal's kindness for people, but he is a good guy. He would never admit it, but I'm sure he enjoys my company, like I do his. I don't understand why El – Elizabeth, she's my wife – Why El is so fond of him though. He does get on my nerves sometimes…"

"So you and your wife, you're friends with criminals?"

"Yep, weird, huh?"

"And you trust them?"

"With my life." Peter said strongly. "Though maybe not with my wallet…" he added with a chuckle.

Peter was shivering. His breathing was becoming more laborious, and I could feel once again his heart beating unsteady. He was not complaining though. He kept talking, in a soft low voice and it was like we were the only two people in the world.

But reality struck back. A noise from behind. I turned around. A man was running right toward us. I secured my grip on Peter as I picked up the gun, and pointed it at the man. I did my best to look menacing. The man stopped right in his tracks. He slowly raised his hands, visibly doing his best _not_ to look menacing. He was wearing a nice dark blue suit. Tailored. His shirt was light blue, and he had a thin tie, matching his suit and held by a tie-clip. He had thick dark hair, with locks coming down his forehead. His deep blue eyes widened at the sight of the gun, but his look softened. He pointed a finger to the gun, flashed a smile.

"You know the safety's…" He stopped, his eyes catching Peter. And it was like I did not exist anymore. He hastily knelt down facing Peter.

"Peter!" His voice that was so confident a moment before sounded alarmed. He examined Peter with worry, his hands hesitant to touch him.

At the sound of the voice calling him, Peter opened his eyes. A small grin appeared on his face. "Neal…" he whispered with obvious relief. I felt his body relax, and I realized how tensed he had been until now. Both men fell into each other arms.

"It's okay, buddy, help's on its way."

There were other people gathering around us, now. Two FBI agents were standing right next to us, a man and a woman, looking at Peter with concerned looks.

The man, a strong black man with a shaven head, turned to me:

"Who are you?" he asked. "Are you hurt, miss?"

I shook my head. "No, sir, I'm fine. I'm just a neighbor." The words got caught in my throat. I was scared, exhausted, and I felt tears coming up my eyes.

I looked up at the two agents. I handed the gun, end butt first. The lady agent smiled at me and took the weapon quickly.

Then they turned back their attention to Peter. "Boss, you all right?" the lady agent asked, worried. Peter gave them a vague nod.

Feeling safe, Peter finally let go. He fainted in Neal's arms.

* * *

Three days later, I found myself on the door step of the Burke's house. Earlier that day, I had received a short call from Peter inviting me for lunch.

I pressed the doorbell button. In a minute, the door opened, and Peter was standing in the door way, a bright smile on his face. He was casual, wearing a brown t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. His left arm was resting in a sling. But that was the only sign of what had happened a few days before. He looked relaxed and happy.

"Hello Lily, come on in!"

"Hi Peter! You look good!"

"Yes I feel much better. Arm still itches a bit, but it's all good." He looked at me for a second with his dark and earnest eyes. In a serious voice he said "I didn't get a chance to thank you properly." He made a step toward me, and suddenly putting his good arm around me, he gave me a firm hug. "Thank you, Lily."

He freed me. "You know, I…" But I was interrupted by a cheerful feminine voice. A woman that I assumed to be Elizabeth appeared from the kitchen. She was about my height, wearing a colorful dress. She had long dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and an even bigger smile than Peter.

"So this is the heroine who saved my husband's life! I'm Elizabeth. Peter told me how you helped him escape. Thank you, Lily, thank you."

I was really feeling embarrassed. My cheeks were on fire. I freed myself from Elizabeth's happy hug.

"You know, I wouldn't have made it without Peter. So let's say we're even. We saved each other's lives."

Neal's head popped out by the kitchen's door. "And then I saved them both." He grinned, his eyes wide opened in a false angelic look.

"Neal!" Peter protested. His voice sounded full of indignity, but the warm look he was giving Neal said otherwise.

Neal waved at me. "Hi Lily!"

"Hi Neal!" I waved back, before he went back to the kitchen.

"Oh Peter, I have a little gift for you…" I said as I took a small package from my purse and put it in Peter's hands. Peter looked at me surprised.

"Lily, really, you shouldn't have!"

"Open up Peter!" I cheered. Ripping off the wrapping, Peter unfolded his gift, revealing a stripped green tie.

"Oh a new tie! That's great."

"Yeah, I kinda ruined your lucky tie, so I thought it was the least I could do."

"This is great. It's really beautiful, thank you." Peter's genuine happiness was a pleasure to see.

The doorbell rang. Peter opened the door and a short man came in.

"Suit," he said as he nodded to Peter.

"Hello Moz." So that was the weird paranoid friend of Neal's. The little guy went straight at me. "So you're the one who saved the Suit." He looked at me from head to toes, to head again.

"I thought you would be taller," he stated.

Behind him, Peter rolled his eyes. "Lily, this is Mozzie." he said with a smirk. Mozzie bowed his head.

"Nice to meet you, Mozzie. I've heard a lot about you." Mozzie froze and then gave Peter a strange look. Peter greeted him an innocent smile.

"Meal's ready!" Neal announced putting a big steaming roast in the middle of the living room table.

Peter opened a cupboard, but El stopped him. "It' okay, hon, I got it." She kissed him softly as she took the plates and cutlery from the cupboard and set them on the table.

Peter sat at the table, and everyone joined him. Neal cut the roast, as El served the vegetables. Mozzie looked suspiciously at his plate. He was about to say something but a challenging look from Peter made him change his mind.

Neal, all smiles, turned to Peter. "Need any help cutting your meat, Peter?"

Peter gave him an annoyed look. "No, I'm a big kid, I can eat on my own, thank you." Neal laughed. Peter turned to Neal, a spark in his eyes. "But if you want to be nice, maybe you can offer Lily something to drink." He turned to me. "Beer?" He offered.

"Wine?" countered Neal.

I looked at them, going from one to the other. They were both expectantly staring at me, with a childish grin. Yes, definitely a long story between those two.

"Beer's fine." I said.

Peter gave me a wink.

FIN.


End file.
